Dreamless
by yellowcrayon7
Summary: Professor Snape catches Hermione stealing from his stores, and the two find they have more in common than either would have expected. Set mid-HBP.


**This might be a bit OOC, but I tried to keep their voices consistent with the characters. There's no romance here, just a hint of friendship. Enjoy and review please!**

The corridors were dark and silent as Hermione walked through the castle. She had been worried about going out after curfew without the invisibility cloak, but hadn't wanted to wake Harry, and as she passed empty classroom after empty classroom, she relaxed. She had recently discovered a spell enabling improved sight in low light conditions, so her wand was unlit, and she was in stocking feet so her steps made no noise on the vast marble floors.

Eventually Hermione reached her destination: the Potions stores. Professor Slughorn was known to retire early, so she assumed the storage space would be unoccupied. However when she opened the door, she came face to face with none other than Professor Snape, who wore his usual glowering expression and billowy black robes.

A sharp pang of fear grabbed at her lungs just like the ones that plagued her nightly, but she pushed it away. "Um, good evening, Professor."

"Miss Granger," he began in an accusatory tone.

"Yes?" she responded timidly.

"What time is it?"

Hermione met his narrowed eyes, puzzled. "Just after midn—"

"The question was rhetorical," he snapped. "You are out of bed after curfew, not to mention trespassing and knowing you, intending to steal."

"I didn't think there would be anyone here."

"I imagine not." He opened the door wider. "Come in and have a seat."

She did so, and he sat down across the desk from her. After several moments during which she seemed to sink lower and lower in her chair under his penetrating gaze, he spoke in his smooth baritone, "What brings you here tonight?"

"I was just going to, er, borrow some ingredients."

"For what purpose? Not brewing up Polyjuice again, are we?"

Her eyes widened. "You know about that?"

"I do now. I had merely suspected." He grinned unpleasantly. "Well?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, I needed some things for a potion."

"I figured as much. Which things, though, Miss Granger?" Snape was losing his patience, she could tell.

"I was just going to take a bit of hellebore, some powdered moonstone, and a little wormwood…" she mumbled, and waited patiently for him to put it together.

He sighed. "I see. And what, might I ask, makes you want this potentially dangerous potion at this particular moment?"

"Dreamless Sleep is only dangerous in high doses! And, well. I've been having nightmares ever since the whole debacle at the Department of Mysteries, and Parvati and Lavender are miffed I keep waking them up with my… well, cause I'm screaming.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm just so tired. And I'm afraid… to go to sleep."

Snape considered for a moment, taking in her disheveled, sleep-deprived appearance, sock feet, and pitiful expression. For a second it looked as if she might cry. He hoped she wouldn't. He was terrible with crying women.

"Come with me, Miss Granger." He stood, and led her to the door leading into the Potions classroom. She followed silently.

"What – " she began, stepping towards the largest cauldron in the room, which was emitting a thin, sickly sweet steam. "Oh. Dreamless Sleep?"

He nodded tersely. "The batch should be done soon. I would think if you were to assist me in finishing it, I might give you some and forget this little nighttime excursion ever happened."

Hermione brightened. "Really?"

Snape pointed towards the cupboards. "Moonstone. Powder it. Now."

It took Hermione a moment to respond, still stunned as she was by the show of understanding from her usually quite cruel Professor. Soon, though, they were seated side by side, her pounding the moonstone with a mortar and pestle while he stirred the potion with lazy flicks of his wand.

"Professor?" she began hesitantly. He didn't respond, but she took this as a sign she could continue. "Why are you… um… why are you being nice to me?"

"Why shouldn't I?" he said briskly, still focused on the cauldron.

"Well… you think I'm an insufferable know-it-all."

"Hmph." He paused and began to stir counterclockwise. "What makes you say that?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, professor, you make sure to inform me at least once a week."

He met her eyes for the first time and smirked teasingly. "The best in the class just has to be a Gryffindor, too."

"The best in the class?" she said, flattered.

He looked faintly annoyed. "Not that you've got much competition."

They worked for another moment in silence. When the moonstone was reduced to powder, she stood and stepped over to the cauldron, tipping the contents in as Snape continued to stir. As she watched the potion spin and inhaled its steam, she felt her vision blurring a bit and her mind becoming blank.

She felt a sudden tug as Professor Snape pulled her away from the cauldron sharply. "Don't breathe it in, you'll pass out."

She became suddenly aware that she was practically leaning against him for support. "Sorry," she said abruptly, stepping away and shaking her head to clear her vision. His hand remained on her shoulder for a few seconds longer, steadying her. Once he was satisfied that she wouldn't collapse, he turned back to the cauldron.

"Syrup of hellebore." He reached out his hand impatiently, without looking at Hermione.

She handed it to him and then took her seat, watching him stir as she supported her weary head on her arm. "You know, you're the second-best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor I've ever had."

He looked around, surprised for a moment. She smiled. "Not that you've got much competition." He made a noise that could have been a laugh, and Hermione realized she had never heard her professor laugh before.

"Nearly done," Snape said after a few minutes. "Bring me two flasks."

"Two?"

His glare was answer enough. She returned with the glass containers and remained standing, watching as he decanted the liquid. "Is the second for you, Professor?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes," he responded briskly.

"Why?"

"Use your overlarge brain Granger! What do you think?" He sounded annoyed, as usual, but there was a tinge of something else in his tone, something almost like shame.

"Oh," she said, lowering her head. He thrust one of the flasks into her hand.

"Take it directly before bed. One tablespoon gives you about an hour, so dose accordingly."

"Thanks." She gave him a warm smile, and he nodded gently as if to say "you're welcome."

He snapped back to his usual self to say, "Don't think I'll be doing this for you again, Miss Granger. You need a sleeping potion from now on, ask Madame Pomfrey. And if I ever catch you out of bed past curfew, you'll be scrubbing cauldrons every night until you graduate."

"Thanks," she repeated earnestly.

Snape cleared his throat. "I shall accompany you back to the dormitory." He stood and moved towards the door.

"Oh, you don't have to—"

He fixed her with his signature glare. "Or I could just let Mr. Filch handle you."

Hermione blanched. "That won't be necessary," she said nervously.

Snape opened the door and gestured for her to go through first. As they climbed the staircase up from the dungeons, Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself.

"If you don't mind me asking, Professor, what do you have nightmares about?"

His rather brisk pace was unaltered by her bold question, and he answered quite calmly, "The same as you, I imagine." At Hermione's quizzical look he added, "Him."

She understood immediately who "Him" was, and nodded. They walked along side by side through the dark castle, silent. When they reached the portrait hole, Snape turned sharply and said, "I would ask you not to share what transpired here with anyone. Needless to say I am not typically supposed to dispense… well…"

"Potentially dangerous potions? Got it." Now it was her turn to smirk.

He matched her expression. "Good night, Miss Granger."

"Good night, sir."

Professor Snape turned to walk away as she delivered the password and began to climb into the portrait hole. He looked back after a second and said quietly, "Sleep well."

Hermione looked taken aback for a second, but responded just as quietly, "You too, Professor." Then she closed the portrait behind her and crept silently up the spiral staircase to her bed, where she flopped down with a sigh. Her last thought, as she swallowed her five tablespoons of Dreamless Sleep and lay her head on the pillow, was that somewhere else in the castle, Professor Snape was drinking his, too, and joining her in the blissful blankness, and that she had nothing to fear, and was not alone.


End file.
